


New Horizons

by privatesnarker



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Roommates, Swearing, Vendettas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privatesnarker/pseuds/privatesnarker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say Academy years are the best years of one's life, and Benvolio is very excited to leave behind Verona's oppressive atmosphere of hatred and bloodshed in favour of new experiences, new places, new people — except there seems no escaping the feud when his roommate turns out to be Tybalt fucking Capulet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Horizons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carmarthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/gifts).



> A prompt ficlet that got way out of hand, for Carmarthen's prompt of "scifi verse Tybalt/Benvolio" + "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”.
> 
> This work isn't new, but after leaving it to marinate on a lonely sideblog for a few months I still like it enough to think it deserves a slightly larger potential audience :)

Moving to the Academy Campus was also the first time Benvolio had ever left Verona, and it probably showed. He tried not to stare like the most bumbling of backwater planet hicks, but— everything was so big and bright, every single building looked new, the sun was plainly visible instead of being hidden being a curtain of orange fog, and many of the people hurrying past them didn’t even look humanoid. At least he had Romeo and Mercutio with him, who felt the same way — although Mercutio played it much more suave than Romeo, who had to be reminded at regular intervals to close his mouth.

Their ways only parted once they were inside the dormitory building — Romeo and Mercutio had managed to get one two-bed room together, Benvolio would be sharing with someone else. Well, he was good with people, and looking forward to the chance to make his first new friend.

When he opened the door, he thought he might have accidentally opened a space-time portal instead, because that was none other than Tybalt “I have issues, and they’re stuck up my arse” Capulet glaring daggers at him.

“You!”

“And hello to you too. I see you haven’t learned manners yet.”

“Fuck off, Montague.”

“No. I live here now.”

“…Not for long. I’ll have a talk with dorm management.” 

“What, are you going to cite irreconcilable differences? This isn’t Verona, I’m pretty sure vendettas are against campus rules.”

Well, this was going to be fun.

The next time he came into the room, Tybalt had put a line of motherfucking tape down the middle of it, because apparently they were _five_.

“Let me guess, this is your side, and I’m not allowed to go there?”

“You’re smarter than you look then.”

Benvolio ignored the weak insult, and went to stand with his toes at the demarcated line. “And what happens if I step over that?”

Tybalt’s scowl deepened. “You’ll regret it.”

“Ooooh, now I’m scared.” He lifted one foot, and dramatically stepped over the tape, arms outstretched. “C’mon, don’t you wanna put the fear of God into me or something?”

If looks could kill. Tybalt was actually baring his teeth, like an angry dog. “I’m definitely applying for a different roommate.”

Boring. Benvolio dropped his arms and went back to his own bed. “You do that, Capulet.”

\---

The next few days were… eventful. As Benvolio told Romeo and Mercutio (the latter not even pretending to be sympathetic), Tybalt was pretty much impossible. He was anal about tidiness, privacy and silence, and seemed endlessly frustrated by the fact that Benvolio possessed no talent for either. He went to bed early and demanded the lights be off, got up about a million times during the course of the night, only to rise for good at some unholy hour of the morning. He threatened to throw Benvolio out of the room more or less every single evening. Despite all this, they somehow managed to avoid a really big fight; not by virtue of pacifism and charity, but by sheer exhaustion. The semester had started, everything was new, both of them were busy the entire day. When Benvolio wasn’t attending classes or getting lost on campus, he was hanging out with Romeo and Mercutio. He only set foot into his bedroom for more than minutes at a time during the night, and by then he was too tired for goading and teasing. In a strange way, their half-hearted arguments reminded Benvolio of home — he wasn’t sure what he would have done without any conflict in his life all of a sudden.

\---

“I don’t get why he’d even come here,” Mercutio said during lunch one day, ”the guy never gave a crap about anything but fighting and whoring back home.”

Romeo, who had sat by daydreaming (or maybe just listening, it was hard to tell with him), offered some input for the first time since the topic of conversation had shifted to Tybalt: “Isn’t his cousin some kind of child prodigy who got accepted into the academy early? I bet he’s here to chaperone her.”

“Yeah, apparently he managed to get into all the same courses as her, by just showing up anyway if he wasn’t accepted, until the profs buckled.” Which meant that in addition to a normal course load, he was also attending the classes Benvolio, who didn’t share a single course with the elusive Juliet Capulet, had seen him in.

Mercutio snorted derisively. “Look at the bright side Ben, you’re in a prime position for making his life hell. You could hide his stuff, put itching powder in his clothes, draw on his face when he’s asleep… and that’s just off the top of my head.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I still have to sleep next to the guy, and that sword cuts both ways.”

“Oh, hello Tybalt,” Romeo said calmly, looking over Benvolio’s shoulder.

Tybalt gave the most minuscule of nods, and swanned past them.

“That fucker creeps around like a cat,“ Mercutio mumbled darkly while finishing off his fries, “I bet he was eavesdropping too.”

\---

Maybe he had been. When Benvolio woke up the next morning, Tybalt was long gone out, as per usual. But on his way to the bathroom, Benvolio nearly knocked over a paper cup of coffee, left very deliberately on his side of the tape. After coming to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t poisoned, Benvolio took it as an offer of truce, and decided, without any intention of ever vocalizing that decision, that anyone who worked as much as Tybalt seemed to do probably deserved to go to bed as early as he pleased, without anyone making a big fuss about it. 

He didn’t tell Romeo and Mercutio about the coffee.

Of course they still weren’t _friendly_. Civil, at best. Mostly it was Benvolio bugging Tybalt until the latter threw something across the room (a shoe, usually). Lately, Benvolio was conducting research into the field of nicknames, and which ones would get Tybalt angry the fastest. Current record holder was still “princess”, while “pretty kitty” prompted barely an eye roll. Really, Benvolio wasn’t even sure why he was still using it.

\---

“Didn’t you want to apply for a different roomie?”, Benvolio asked at some point during week five, after Tybalt’s pacing had woken him up at three am for the second night in a row, and he was retaliating by talking about the first things that came to his hazy mind.

“If you keep being such a nuisance, I will.” And that was when Benvolio knew he hadn’t, and didn’t plan to. He fell back asleep with surprising ease.

\---

Other things Benvolio didn’t tell Romeo and Mercutio:

\- Tybalt talked in his sleep, probably more than he did when awake

\- while never participating much in seminars, he was determinedly studious — outside of classes he always seemed to be reading something or other, and in the courses he was meticulously taking notes

\- he wore glasses when having to read small print, or when reading late at night

\- he could in fact smile, though Benvolio had not yet had the chance to witness that from up close, and the only person he ever smiled at seemed to be Juliet

\- (Benvolio was not allowed to talk to Juliet, aside from greetings. Tybalt hadn’t said that, but he’d made it quite clear nonetheless. As if Benvolio would hit on the one 15-year-old on the entire campus. He almost felt tempted to do it once under Tybalt’s nose just out of spite, but he rather liked his head attached to his neck and all vital functions present)

\- he really was very pretty, and the (horrible horrible) Academy uniform looked unfairly good on him

\---

“Ugh, screw astrophysics, and screw astrophysicists who can’t write articles that actually make sense.” Benvolio had been trying to get his head around it all afternoon, and had actually taken his reader into bed in the hopes of a late-night revelation. None was forthcoming.

“What’s it to you?” Tybalt didn’t even look up from his reader pad.

“I‘m not sure how you missed it, but this entire planet we’re on is one big educational institution.”

“It’s not like you’re here to study.”

“And how did you come to that amazing conclusion?” He had the dull suspicion that the answer would be somehow insulting, but he was curious.

“Because that coddled cousin of yours wouldn’t know trouble if it came up and bit him, and the Escalus brat _is_ trouble. You’re here to ensure your lot will have an heir after all.” This was probably the most he had heard Tybalt say at once, ever. And boy did Benvolio have news for him.

“…Did you know half my tuition fees are covered by scholarship?”

And now Tybalt looked up. “What?”

“You’re right, Lady Montague wants me to look out for Romeo, but she doesn’t really think I’m the best person for the job. She has others she can depend on for that, people who aren’t friends of Mercutio’s as well. Romeo’s my third cousin, I didn’t even know him until after my parents died. I’m not important enough to have money spent on me, so that astrophysics final is actually going to be important.”

Tybalt was looking at him like he was trying to decide whether or not Benvolio was lying. Then he started dialing on his reader. “Let me take a look at my notes.”

It took another two hours, but at some point past midnight Benvolio did get the article’s point. As it turned out Tybalt could actually talk for long periods of time. When he finally turned off the lights, Benvolio wished him good night without a second thought. He almost turned them back on when Tybalt returned it, just to make sure it was really him.

\---

It was probably Romeo who had once told Benvolio that a person kept changing and transforming the closer you got to know them. It sounded like something Romeo would say. Be that as it may, Benvolio was pretty sure Tybalt _was_ changing, had started to since he’d arrived on Campus. Back home, he’d walked around like a warrior heading into war, his armour no less spiky for the fact that most of it was invisible. Maybe others had been privy to his softer side, but he would never have hung around a Verona street like he did in the Academy corridors, grave but not overwhelmed. He was starting to speak up in seminars every now and again, like he was beginning to realize he had something to say. There were nights Benvolio wasn’t woken up by his nightmares, or whatever else had him shouting in his sleep or pacing into the small hours of the morning. Most students kept a respectful distance, but every now and then some brave soul would ask him for directions to a classroom, or the time, or what the cafeteria had on offer that day, and Benvolio eavesdropped shamelessly for the chance to hear Tybalt sound indistinguishable from a normal person, albeit a curt one.

\---

“What’s the use of debating the possibility of alternate universes, it’s not like we’ll be able to go there any time soon. With wormhole technology as unstable as it is, all we have is space-time travel. I just don’t see why I have to waste my time thinking about worlds that might or might not exist, when there’s no way to find out for sure.”

Benvolio had told Romeo and Mercutio he would be studying this afternoon. He hadn’t said he’d do it by himself.

“True, but there’s so many exciting possibilities! Anything is possible! There could be an alternate reality where we never left Verona…” _Where this stupid fucking feud never even started_ , “Or hell, let’s go wild, there might be a world where I’m tall and you’re ugly.” He was teasing, of course, here were the fluttering eyelashes to prove it. But to his delight, Tybalt wasn’t even scowling.

“Tybalt! Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” He’d have to mark up the day in his calendar.

“I was imagining an alternate universe where you don’t talk so much shit.” The smile still lingered in the corner of his mouth, and Benvolio was visited by the sudden urge to stand on his tiptoes and kiss it. Bad idea.

\---

Who had declared this fucking planet inhabitable? It wasn’t even summer yet, and the heat was unbearable. Well, not everywhere, most of the public spaces were quite alright, but the dorm room was one stuffy sweltering hellhole. Benvolio had avoided setting foot into it for as long as possible, but he had to go to bed at some point. Except sleeping seemed impossible, and so he was trying to read himself into exhaustion. He was sitting on top of his covers in his boxers because fuck decency, he was hot dammit, back against the wall, reader pad in his lap. The wall was marginally cooler than the rest of the room, and so the wall was his new best friend. Reading on the other hand wasn’t, and not just because of how tired he was. Across the room, Tybalt had yielded to the atmospheric challenge and was wearing a T-shirt and shorts: compared to his usual preference for layers and long sleeves, this constituted a near-scandalous level of undress. He had very distracting shoulders. And arms. And everything really. Benvolio had been staring at the same paragraph for over ten minutes now, and he still had no idea what it was about. He looked up, just to rest his eyes for a bit, and caught Tybalt’s gaze skittering upwards to his face, meet his eyes for a split second, and hurriedly turn away. He sighed soundlessly. It was going to be a long night.

\---

It had been a long week. Five days— no, five nights of torture. Lying awake on top of his covers in total darkness, unable to sleep because he could hear Tybalt turning or even just _breathing_ on the other side of the room, and he knew Tybalt knew he was awake too, and neither of them said anything, and Benvolio’s imagination kept reminding him of all the ways he wanted to touch Tybalt, all the places he wanted to feel Tybalt’s hands and mouth and— it had come to the point where Benvolio needed to go for a wank immediately before going to bed and it still didn’t help. Now he knew where the expression “to lose sleep over someone” probably came from, he was nodding off in lectures and during lunch, and something had to give before he went insane. Well. He couldn’t influence the weather, so there was really only one way to go.

\---

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Benvolio put his pad aside and propped his elbows on his knees. He had tried reading for one last time, with predictable results. If Tybalt didn’t want people to think he was into them he really needed to work on his staring problem. Also the bastard was wearing his hair in a ponytail now, and lo, soft downy hairs on the nape of his neck just begging to be touched. Benvolio was too horny and far too sleep-deprived to be afraid of anything anymore. “So how about I come over to your bed?”

“…To do what?” Tybalt’s voice sounded raspy, and Benvolio couldn’t even remember the last time he had heard him speak. These last few days they had barely been able to make eye contact.

Benvolio shrugged, using up the last dregs of fake calm he had left. “No idea. Maybe take off your shirt for starters, see where that leads us.”

An endless second of silence.

“Alright,” Tybalt said, and Benvolio was over the stupid tape line before he had closed his mouth.

\---

“With the kind of weather this place has,” Romeo said through a mouthful of rice, ”I’m really glad the dorm rooms all have air conditioning. …Benvolio, you alright?”

So _that_ was what those weird control panels in the walls were for. Because this fucking planet had all the space for housing in the world but couldn’t offer single-bed rooms, but of _course_ every room had air conditioning, of course. This place really wasn’t like Verona. Well, maybe the next time Benvolio was allowed into Tybalt’s bed, its owner wouldn’t grumble about him sweating up all of the sheets like the killjoy he was. If there would be a next time.

\---

As it turned out there was a next time, and the next one after that, and Tybalt always found something to grumble about.

They didn’t talk about it. Their naked and their clothed selves might as well have been inhabiting separate realities that sometimes happened to cross. Benvolio hadn’t expected any different — this was the Verona way, where who you liked and who you trusted and who you fucked were all very different things. He was glad Tybalt still talked to him outside of bed, continued to be his version of friendly even. It was more than many of his past liaisons had been, and few of those had involved sex that hot. 

The rare moments where Tybalt would suddenly melt under his touch were as unpredictable as they were fleeting. Benvolio would sometimes steal a kiss in the heat of the moment, filthy and violent and glorious; he would indulge in an idle caress as Tybalt squirmed impatiently, and he had managed to win something like cuddles by simply refusing to move until he was kicked out of bed (sometimes literally). All of these felt like exceptions, small liberties Tybalt was prepared to put up with. Benvolio was not like Romeo, who would get restless and bored whenever a relationship didn’t live up to his grand ideals. He was much more pragmatic: if things between them stayed as they were, it would be enough. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was missing. Maybe touches that didn’t have to lead anywhere, just for closeness’ sake. Maybe a kiss that was warm instead of hot. Maybe for Tybalt to smile at him again, and again after that. None of that seemed like an option, so there was no point in wondering.

\---

He still went to parties with Romeo and Mercutio, and he still flirted at every pair of pretty eyes that caught his attention — hey, he was young, and he’d heard that Academy years were supposed to be the best time of his life. Lately, his heart wasn’t in it, and he bowed out whenever things got too close. But tonight there had been this slight dark-haired girl who had returned his banter with all the sharp wit one of the girls back home would have had, without any of the bite behind it. She was sitting on his lap now, her flush bringing out the freckles across the bridge of her nose, and she had the softest lips Benvolio had ever kissed. God, he’d missed this. Easy and warm, no promises and no obligations, just playing around and testing how far his charm would get him. When she took his hands off her breasts and placed them back on her waist, he was almost relieved — she really was a very good kisser, and before tonight he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having his hair played with.

He hadn’t known Tybalt would also be at the party, but when he looked up he just caught him leaving the room. When he went to look for him later — the girl had left for bed with a cordial farewell, but no intention of getting into contact again, much less inviting him along; he’d wished her good luck with finals and admired her walk as she went — he seemed to have gone already. He wasn’t in the dorm either, and Benvolio must’ve missed him the next morning, as usual.

\---

It took a bit to sink in, but Tybalt was avoiding him. No, avoiding wasn’t a strong enough description — he was blanking him, completely ignoring his existence. In class, in the corridors, in the cafeteria — Benvolio might as well have been invisible. When he did come into the bedroom at night, it was so late that Benvolio didn’t bother talking to him. He got the message; anyone who tried this hard didn’t want to talk. Tybalt sometimes got moody and quiet and needed to be left alone for a day or two, so Benvolio gave him time. It was made easier by the fact that the end of the semester was approaching and he had enough other things to worry him. But after three days without so much as a nod in the hallways he’d had enough. When he tried talking to him, Tybalt actually changed directions and walked away — something was definitely wrong. That night, he stayed up in bed until Tybalt finally showed up.

“Hey.” No reaction, but at least he hadn’t run yet. Benvolio sat up, and turned on the lights.

“What’s wrong?” No use beating around the bush.

Tybalt walked over to his bed without sparing him a glance. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’re being all weird, what happened?”

Tybalt’s jaw worked soundlessly, and when he spoke it was through gritted teeth: “It seems I made a mistake. In expecting loyalty from a Montague.” 

Woooah. Benvolio hadn’t been “a Montague” in months.

“What the fuck…? Is this about the girl at the party?” After all, Benvolio had spent the last three days coming up with theories of his own, and that had been the point Tybalt had started acting strange.

“No.” The answer came so promptly it could only mean _Yes_.

“What I do with whom is none of your business.” What was he, a pet?

“I realize that now.” Said in the tones of dripping contempt. Benvolio was getting angry, too. He stood up from the bed.

“What, did you think that just because we’re fucking you suddenly own me?”

Tybalt whirled around, and for a moment Benvolio expected him to come over the tape line and strike him. The moment passed, and he visibly pulled himself together, fists balled, face stony. Four months ago, he would only have looked uptight and aloof, but Benvolio had learned to read him better than that, and he saw the hurt. Something was still wrong. 

“…What did you think we were then?”

“Bite me, Montague.” He made to turn for the door, but Benvolio stepped over the tape and snatched his wrist.

“Because I hoped we were also friends.” This was the first time he’d said the word, and it hung in the air like a bell toll. Tybalt was looking at the floor, but he also wasn’t trying to run anymore. Alright, that had been the easy part.

“And I wished— I still wish we were more than that.”

He looked at Tybalt’s wrist in his hand, his thumb caressing the pulse point of its own accord. Silence. He could feel Tybalt’s eyes on him, but looking up had suddenly become the scariest thing in the world. He’d never said anything like this out loud before, not when he actually meant it.

“Strange way you have of showing that.” He sounded grumpy, and tired, and Benvolio was so relieved he almost laughed.

“Yeah, I guess I thought it was too good to be possible.” He let go of Tybalt’s wrist. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment they just stood there, looking at each other. Then Tybalt lifted one hand, and slowly reached out to ruffle Benvolio’s hair. Benvolio leaned into the touch, and there was no way he could have held back the dopey grin on his face. And there — that must’ve been the smallest, most hesitant smile in the history of the galaxy, but it was something he could work with. Kiss it, for starters, see where that led him.


End file.
